


Something Underground's Gonna Come Up and Carry Me

by Chash



Series: Charity Drive 2017 [19]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: The summer before he starts grad school and she starts college, Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin meet at an archaeological dig in Greece. And every summer, they keep going back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Charity fill for [asthoughtobreathewerelife](http://asthoughtobreathewerelife.tumblr.com/)!

**one.**

"Ah, here he is. Bellamy!"

Bellamy looks up to see Professor Pike approaching, followed by a pretty blonde girl he hasn't seen before. She's dressed fairly practically, but looks a little young to be an undergrad, and she wasn't at the orientation that he remembers. But whoever she is, Pike apparently wants to introduce them, so he stands and brushes his hands off on his pants, giving them both a smile. "Hi, Professor. What's up?"

"This is Clarke Griffin. She's starting at Notre Dame in the fall. Her stepfather is an old friend of mine, he thought I'd be able to give her a preview of what she's going to be studying. Clarke, this is Bellamy. My star pupil. He's going to show you the ropes."

"Nice to meet you, Clarke," he says, and he thinks he makes it sound genuine. Which it mostly is. She looks like a nice girl. Not really accustomed to hard work, and her outfit is new, for all it's site-appropriate, but--nice. No worse than any of the first-time undergrads.

He's admittedly not thrilled about being her personal tour guide, but he can't actually blame Professor Pike. He probably is the best babysitter on the site. Everyone knows how much he took care of his sister; if he had an eighteen-year-old kid who needed supervision, he'd come to himself. Or--whatever he has to do to make that sentence not a nightmare.

What matters is that Clarke is here, she's Professor Pike's friend's stepdaughter, and she's apparently going to be his responsibility for however long she's around. And he can deal with that. Not to sound creepy, but he is good at dealing with teenage girls.

"Nice to meet you too," she says.

"I've got some other things to take care of," Professor Pike says, because he _always_ has things to take care of. He's constantly in like five places at once. "But, as I said, Bellamy is my star pupil. I'm leaving you in the best hands. I'm sure he'll find you something exciting to do."

Bellamy tries not to pull a face, but he can see Clarke struggling not to smile too, so that helps. And once the professor is gone, she says, "If it helps, I know a lot of what there is to do isn't actually exciting. I'm not expecting to discover a dinosaur or anything."

"Yeah, if you wanted to find a dinosaur, you seriously came to the wrong site," he says, dry. "Ancient Greece wasn't really full of dinosaurs."

"I guess you've never read my speculative graphic novel _Socrates Rex_ , about the velociraptor who became a great philosopher."

He actually chokes on his surprise, and she grins. "I'm going to be really disappointed if you didn't actually write that," he tells her.

"Not _yet_. But now I have to."

"Definitely." He clears his throat. "So, uh, did Pike show you around, or just--"

"Basically straight to you. I think he had about fifteen free minutes and he spent them taking my bag to the dorm and then finding you. Sorry," she adds. "You can do whatever you were going to do, I don't mind tagging along. Just being here is awesome."

"I can give you the tour first," he says. "What made you want to come out here?"

"I want to study art history. Classical art and architecture. So Marcus told me his friend was doing a summer project in Greece, and obviously I jumped on it. I did some reading, I know what I'm in for. I'm mostly going to be bored. But it's still cool right now."

"It keeps being cool, even when it's tedious," he admits. "But, yeah, there's a lot of tedium. I hope you brought your headphones."

"I'm prepared, yeah."

And to his surprise, she does seem to be. Once they finish the tour, she's flagging, and he realizes she's probably jetlagged and exhausted from the flight, so he takes her to get some food early, and they relax for a bit. But she makes it to a reasonable bedtime, and the next morning, she's bright and alert and ready to go.

"Got your headphones?" he asks, and she pulls them out of her pocket with a smile.

"Way ahead of you."

"Cool."

He doesn't keep on being the only person she knows. She gets to know some of the other students, the ones who are in undergrad and almost her peers. Which is nice, obviously. He has some actual responsibilities, and he can't actually watch her the whole time.

But she eats at least one meal a day with him, and they tend to find each other when they have free time, and that's nice too. She's cool; he likes her.

"What are you doing next year?" He blinks, and she ducks her head. It's the last night they're in Greece, and he's kind of quietly pleased she chose to spend it hanging out with him. But he wasn't expecting the question. "The way Charles talked about you, I thought you were going to be a junior or a senior, but I heard someone mention you graduated, so--"

"Oh, yeah. I graduated but I'm not leaving. I'm going right to grad school. He's not getting rid of me yet."

Her smile is oddly soft. "So you're stuck with him for a while."

"Until he kicks me out, yeah. What about you? Excited to start college?"

"Mostly. I don't always do that well with new people."

"You're doing fine here."

"I'm doing fine with you," she counters. "That's my usual ratio. One friend to like thirty acquaintances."

"Could be worse. That gives you one friend in most classes."

That makes her smile. "Yeah, that sounds right."

"You'll do fine, Clarke."

"You too," she says, and holds up her beer. "To next year."

He clinks his against it. "To next year."

 

**two.**

Clarke doesn't ask if Charles Pike needs people for his dig again after freshman year _just_ because she liked Bellamy. That would be stupid; she's not even sure Bellamy is going to be there again. They're Facebook friends, but he hasn't posted anything that gives her any idea about his summer plans. Not that that's a surprise; he almost never does anything himself on Facebook. But his little sister tags him in pictures sometimes, so she knows he's alive and still hot, always looking away from the camera a little, kind of fondly amused about whatever he's doing.

And he likes her posts sometimes, but it's not a big deal. She's got real people in her life she's actually interested in, and he might not even be going back to Greece, but--well, she needs something to do for the summer. She doesn't want to be home, and while she could look for something through Notre Dame, going with Charles will look just as good on her resume. Plus, she's already familiar with the site and the people.

Her mother and Marcus don't question it at all, think it sounds like a great idea, and that makes her feel both better and worse. She's making good choices, she just recognizes that part of her motivation is a cute boy. Not that she really thinks anything is going to _happen_. He's twenty-three now, probably has a girlfriend or boyfriend of his own, definitely has no interest in her, but--well, he's a perk anyway. 

Last year, she arrived at the site late because her high school term finished in June, while the college had been done for a while. This year, she books a flight to arrive at the same time as the rest of Charles' team, roughly, and he says she should be able to get on the second bus without any issues. 

So there's no reason for her to be nervous when she arrives. Even if Bellamy's not around, she knows plenty of other people on the dig. Some of the other students will probably be coming back, and even if they don't, the professors will. She'll know Charles and his colleagues, and she'll have a good time even if she doesn't like anyone as much as she liked Bellamy.

But when she leaves the baggage claim and follows the sign to ground transportation, the first person she sees waiting on the curb is Bellamy, sitting on the edge of a planter, fooling around with his phone. He's wearing khaki shorts and a hoodie, with his glasses sliding down his nose, ignoring everyone.

Her smile is embarrassingly huge.

"Hi," she says, bumping her shoulder against his as she sits next to him. 

He startles, stares for a second and then grins, hitting the button on his headphones to stop whatever he's listening to and draping his earbuds behind his neck. "Hi. I was wondering when you were going to get here."

"Am I late?"

He shrugs. "Didn't know how long it would take you to deplane and get your stuff."

"Am I the last one?" she asks, mostly to figure out if he's tracking everyone, or if he was really just waiting for _her_.

"Not quite. A couple kids from UNC are showing up soon, I think." He glances at his phone. "The bus leaves in an hour, so either they show up or they're taking a taxi." He wets his lips, offers her a slightly shy smile. "You hungry? We have some time to kill."

It's easy and fun, catching up with Bellamy. They talk about her freshman year and how grad school is different from college, how his sister is doing and what her friend-to-acquaintance ratio is looking like. It's a little strange too, but mostly for its lack of strangeness. They were camp friends, essentially: they knew each other for a couple months last year, and they didn't even spend all that much time together. She was all ready to feel stupid about him, some naive kid who was reading into things that weren't there. Even if Bellamy was back, he was supposed to basically not care that Clarke was back. But she seems to have been a highlight for him too, and that's pretty awesome.

They sit together on the bus, listening to music and reading on their separate phones. It's companionable, nice, and that's kind of their default for the next few weeks. It's not like they spend all or most of their time together, but they gravitate towards one another in their free time, just like last year. They feel like friends.

A month in, the students decide that Bellamy needs to go clubbing with them, and it's her job to convince him.

"He _likes_ you," says Roma Taylor. She's at Stanford, like Bellamy, a junior, and wasn't here last year. Apparently she's not involved in the classics department at all, just wanted a summer job out of the country, for which Clarke can't blame her. Like a lot of the other college girls, Roma seems to always be looking at her like she wants to dissect her, like there's something she should be able to find in Clarke that explains why Bellamy likes her.

Clarke wouldn't mind finding it too. She noticed it last year, the way Bellamy was popular without being necessarily included. Everyone likes him, and he's perfectly polite, but--he doesn't really hang out much. He's apart, and for whatever reason, he likes her. It's as awesome as it is confusing.

"So you should ask him to come," Roma goes on. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Sure. I was going to ask him anyway," she can't help adding. It feels petty, but--she doesn't really want Roma to think this is for _her_ benefit. Bellamy's her friend. She likes hanging out with him. "But no promises. He's kind of a curmudgeon."

Roma doesn't look particularly impressed, but Clarke doesn't care. If Bellamy shows up, it's going to be because he wants to, not because anyone else does. She might mention his fan club, but just to tease him. She doesn't give him enough shit about how dreamy he is.

He's in his room with the door open, working on his laptop, and Clarke flops down on his bed. They've rented some old youth hostel for the dig, and it's basically like living in a dorm, but with more weird religious paraphernalia.

"Hey," says Bellamy, not looking up. "Find a dinosaur yet?"

"You'll be the first to know. What are you doing tonight?"

"Working. I have papers to write about this."

"Well, if you want to take a break, we're going to some club."

"We?" 

"What, I can't go to clubs?"

"I didn't really think it was your thing."

"It could be."

"Have fun with that."

"You sure? You know you're, like, really popular, right? There are requests for you to come."

He groans. "Jesus, trust me, I know."

"It must be so hard, being so popular and attractive," she teases.

"I'm going to start TAing next year," he says. "So like half of these kids are going to be my students. I don't really want them to see me getting drunk and sloppy in some Grecian bar."

"Oh. I never thought about that."

He shrugs. "It's not like you're going to be their TA."

"No wonder you like me," she says, and it's supposed to be a joke, but it doesn't quite feel like that. And it doesn't land as one either, apparently, because Bellamy turns to her, considering.

"No," he says, slow. "I liked you before I was cool."

That does loose the knot in her stomach, somehow, and she laughs. "So I'm a Bellamy hipster, huh?"

"Something like that." He wets his lips. "If you really want me to come, I will. But it doesn't sound better than just drinking here and watching Netflix while I work."

"You're right, you should definitely do that."

"You're invited too. If you want."

"You're such a bad influence," she teases. "Let me go grab my iPad."

"I'll be here."

She passes Roma on her way back to her room, gives her a semi-apologetic smile. "I think we're out, sorry."

Roma shrugs one shoulder, giving her a wry smile. "I guess if I had him to myself, I wouldn't want to share either."

"Something like that," Clarke agrees.

No one tries to get them to go clubbing again.

 

**three.**

Bellamy should have mentioned Gina sooner.

He wasn't trying to keep her existence a secret from Clarke, not really. It's just that Clarke showed up in Greece at the beginning of the summer looking pissed off and haunted, replying to all his questions about how her sophomore year was in clipped tones. Part of him wanted to just give up, if she was going to be an asshole, but--he was more worried than hurt, honestly.

So he bought a bottle of gin and they did a couple shots, and she told him about her monumentally shitty year, about her father dying and the way it drove a wedge between her and her mother, how her stepfather tried to mediate and just made it worse. She tells him about the girlfriend who broke up with her with no warning, when she thought things were going well, and he just felt like he'd be an asshole, telling her about his own girlfriend, that his relationship was going well and he was happy.

So he didn't mention it, and focused on trying to make Clarke feel better instead. She clearly had a rough year, and she deserved a break. And it did seem to be helping, working on the site, hanging out with him. She seemed to be happier, and it didn't exactly feel like he was keeping Gina from her, or vice versa.

But--he kind of was. He mentioned Clarke to Gina in passing, but never told her that they'd known each other for a few years, that they were long-term friends, of a kind.

And he didn't mention Gina to Clarke at all.

It's a week before Clarke is leaving--earlier than he is, because she's going to be a resident adviser next year and has training to get back to--when she storms into his room and says, "We're going out."

"We are?" he asks, frowning.

"Sorry, are you busy?"

He catches her arm. "Clarke. What's wrong?"

"My ex called. She wanted to talk, which apparently meant explaining why she broke up with me so I'd see it from her side, and I'm just not interested in that, and she made me feel like _I'm_ wrong for not being interested, so, yeah. I want to go get drunk." She tries a smile, which doesn't quite land. "We're going to party like it's 1999, Bellamy."

He pauses. "So, you're twenty now, which means in 1999 you were, what, four? I assume that means we're going to eat too many cookies and watch Nick Junior."

Just like he hoped, it makes her laugh, the stiff facade breaking open as she ducks her head. But then she looks up again, her face soft and too open. "Please? I need to just get out of here and not think. And I don't want to go alone."

He wouldn't know how to say no to her. "Yeah," he says. "Of course."

It's always strange, seeing Clarke, because it feels so natural to slot her back into his life. He sees her for two months of the year, sometimes nearly three, and it's just--it's so _little_ , when he thinks about it. But every time she comes back, it's like no time at all has passed. Even this summer, when she's been irritable and jagged, he's still just glad to have her around.

He wants to send her home in better shape than he got her, and he wants to see her again next summer, whole and healed. So he's going to this club with her, and he's going to make her feel better.

Once they get there, it does seem to help. "Shots?" she asks, smiling. 

He smiles back. "Shots."

They do three, which burn all the way down, and he makes a face. 

"What?" Clarke asks. At least she looks happy.

"I don't miss undergrad."

"What, you finish college and don't do shots anymore?"

"Yeah, honestly? That is basically exactly what happens."

"That sounds terrible." She looks out at the dance floor, which is like all dance floors, in Bellamy's experience, just pulsing lights and sweaty people and too loud music. "We're dancing," she says.

"You think I can dance?"

"No, I know better. But all you really have to do is jump around. I think you can do that."

He takes another look at the people. Part of him was worried that European clubs would involve better dancing than American ones, but everyone is drunk and horny, so unless someone is trying to hit on him, he's pretty sure they won't care what he does. And he'll be dancing with Clarke, so he'll be safe.

That really is what he thinks. He'd like to blame the alcohol, but--he's just kind of stupid sometimes.

"Is this a necessary part of the healing process?" he asks her.

"Completely."

"One more shot," he says, and she complies and then drags him onto the dance floor.

It's not as bad as it could be. Dancing with her does keep anyone from hitting on him, and Clarke looks happy, so he doesn't worry that she's not getting hit on either. If she wants to hook up with someone, she'll tell him.

It's unfortunately way too true. Someone stumbles into her, and he catches her so she won't fall, and when she looks up, their eyes lock, and she kisses him.

It's one of those things he absolutely should have seen coming, in retrospect. He knows he's attractive. He knows how close they are. If she wasn't so young, he probably would have made a move on her last year, if he's honest.

But this year, he has a girlfriend, and Clarke is drunk and pissed at the world. He should have been the one to see this coming, and he should have made sure it didn't happen.

He doesn't push her away, just disengages gently. It's not the first time he's had to turn down a drunk girl at a party; it's just the first time he's liked the girl this much.

"Sorry," she says, not meeting his eyes. "Fuck, sorry, I--"

"I have a girlfriend," he says, and still feels like an asshole for saying it so late. For saying it at all. "I, uh--I felt kind of shitty telling you when you were--" He gestures vaguely.

At least she's looking at him now, eyes jerked up in surprise. "A girlfriend?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"Oh. That's--good for you."

Her voice is raw, and he keeps his hold on her shoulder to draw her outside. It's not much cooler in the night air, but it's less stuffy. 

"Sorry," he says. It's better to say when he doesn't have to shout it.

"You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have just--"

"If I didn't have a girlfriend I wouldn't have minded," he says, without really meaning to. It's true, but he's not convinced it's helpful. It might make it worse.

But Clarke snorts, and it's at least half genuine amusement. "Great. Thanks."

"If you want to hook up with someone else, we can go back in," he offers. "But I get three vetos."

"Why?"

"You're drunk, I'm not sending you home with some shitty person just because your judgement is impaired."

"I'm not really looking for a hookup," she admits, and he puts his arm around her and squeezes.

"So you want to go home and watch Netflix?"

"Yeah, I do."

He tells Gina about it the next time he talks to her, trying to skirt the line between honest and _too_ honest.

"My friend Clarke kissed me the other night," he says.

Gina frowns on the screen. "Okay."

"She's been having a rough summer, and--I don't know. This is the only time we see each other. I can see why I'd feel like a good summer fling. But she's going through a bad breakup. I told her I had a girlfriend and she apologized. I just thought I should tell you too."

"She didn't know?"

"Like I said breakup," he says, and it sounds even worse, as a justification, when he's saying it to her. "I didn't want to rub it in her face."

She seems to accept that, but he still feels like an asshole. "Is she doing okay?" is what she finally asks, and he exhales.

"I hope so. She's going home in another week, I'm hoping that helps." His throat closes up on the knowledge that he might not find out. She might not be back next year. They're Facebook friends, but he didn't know about her dad or her breakup from Facebook, so he's not sure he'd know about anything else. It's not like he updates about himself.

"I hope so too," Gina says, and he changes the subject, asks about her, and keeps on feeling uneasy until they hang up.

It's awkward with Clarke too, but somehow both less and more awkward. They have a day of lowkey avoiding each other, and then Clarke sits with him at dinner and says, "Tell me about the girlfriend," and he does, feeling itchy the whole time. He knows she didn't mean it like that, but it feels like he's justifying himself: _here's the girl I like better than you_. And it's not like that. It's nothing like that.

It just feels that way.

But once that conversation's over, they go back to normal. There's an element of performance to it, or at least it feels like that to him, a background awareness: _look how normal I'm being_. But she's being normal too. They're good. He still likes Clarke; she's still his best friend, in a weird, temporary way. And it does feel like they've survived with no lingering scars.

He helps her take her bags to the taxi when she leaves, and they take a second to be awkward before she hugs him, like she always does.

"Am I going to see you next year?" he asks.

"Don't you have anything better to do in the summer?" she teases.

"I'm in _Greece_ , digging up dinosaurs. What could be better than that?"

She laughs, pulls back. "Yeah, when you put it like that, maybe I'll see you next year."

"Yeah," he says. "I hope so."

 

**four.**

For all Bellamy said he wanted her back in Greece next year, Clarke can't help feeling awkward about it. It shouldn't be; she and Bellamy are friends. He's her friend she kissed once, and it was awkward, but--it wasn't _that_ bad. He hadn't mentioned he had a girlfriend, and so she made a mistake. He doesn't seem to hold it against her. And she has a girlfriend now too, so they're even. No harm, no foul.

But she still can't help feeling like a tag-along kid with a crush.

Even if he said he wouldn't have minded, if he was single.

She had a conference to go to at the beginning of June, so she's arriving to the site late again, and that makes her feel awkward too. If she was just coming in with everyone, she wouldn't feel so conspicuous.

But it wasn't like she didn't want to go. Like Bellamy said, it's _Greece_. And this is her last chance. After next year, she'll be done with college, and even if she goes to grad school, she probably won't have any reason to come back _here_. Charles should be wrapping up soon too, the excavation almost done, and she wants to stay with it for as long as she can. See it through as much as possible.

This is her last chance, and she's going to say goodbye.

The nervousness evaporates instantly when she gets to the baggage claim and Bellamy is there, holding a sign that says _CLARKE GRIFFIN_ in his own bold, slightly crooked hand.

Clarke not sure she's ever smiled wider.

"Hey," he says, when she reaches him, and puts the sign aside so he can wrap her up in a hug. He's the same as always, firm and warm and smelling like _boy_ , and Clarke buries her face against his neck and holds on.

It's absurd, how much she misses him, every summer. She always tells herself she must be making it up.

"Hey," she says. "How's the dig?"

"Same as always. Flight okay?"

"Same as always." They go over to wait for her bag, and she asks about his sister and his studies, and once that's done, she adds, "How's Gina?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Good. We broke up, but--good."

"Are you okay with it? Or do I need to spend the whole summer comforting you and talking around my girlfriend until you make a move on me in a random club?"

He laughs. "Yeah, that sounds great, thanks. Let's do that."

"Nothing but the best for you."

"Do you actually have a girlfriend, or are you just trying to help?"

"Actually have a girlfriend." She worries her lip, feels weird when she adds, "The same girlfriend, actually. Lexa."

"Yeah?" he asks, grabbing her bag off the carousel before she's even noticed it. "How's that going?"

"She apologized."

"Good for her."

"You don't even know her," Clarke says, but she's smiling. It's nice, having him worry.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy for you." His eyes sweep over her, quick, all concern. "I don't want you getting hurt again."

"Thanks. But I promise I'm good."

"Cool. Any other bags?"

"This is it."

"Then come on. Professor Pike let me borrow his rental car. Let's get you back."

Within twenty-four hours, Clarke can't believe she was thinking about _not_ coming. As with most years, she doesn't know most of the undergrads, but everyone else is a friend by this point. And she and Bellamy aren't awkward at all, as close as ever, closer even. Maybe he realizes this is the last time too, and he's savoring it as much as she is.

"I don't understand why you can't just email him," Lexa points out, when Clarke says how little she's looking forward to saying goodbye. "You have his email. I assume his phone number. You could still get in touch."

"Yeah," says Clarke. "But it's not the same."

Lexa huffs, and Clarke moves the conversation to other things. Lexa doesn't get Bellamy, and that's fine, but it is a little weird, talking about him. Bellamy feels like he exists in an alternate universe, most of the time. It's not that she doesn't want to imagine him into her real life, it's that she doesn't know how. 

"I kind of wish I didn't have a girlfriend right now," is how she ends up explaining it to him, the night before they leave for the last time.

"Yeah? You could break up with her. Doing it with text is kind of a dick move, but whatever works. I'll support you."

She knocks his shoulder with her own. "That's not what I meant."

"Sorry, I don't know any other meanings for _I wish I didn't have a girlfriend_."

"It just seems like a waste you and me never slept together."

That makes him laugh, and that's great too. It's nice to just talk about. They would have fucked if the timing worked out. It's just a fact.

"Yeah, well," he says. "Give it like five years. I'll find the first ever Roman dinosaur and you can come to my presentation and if we're both single--"

She laughs too, leans against his shoulder. "Yeah. Or whenever I publish that graphic novel. What was it called?"

" _Socrates Rex_."

Of course he remembers. "Yeah, I'll invite you to the launch party."

"You better."

He kisses her hair, and she lets her eyes close. "I'm going to miss you," she tells him.

"Yeah. I'm going to miss you too."

 

**five.**

**Miller** : FYI for when you land, I got held up @ work, princess is coming to get you

**Me** : That better not be a dog, Miller, I swear to god

**Miller** : HS friend  
She has a car so she's better than I am anyway  
I told her to make an obnoxious sign w your name on it  
She was really pumped  
You guys are gonna get along great

**Me** : None of this is reassuring

Miller still hasn't responded to his message by the time he's off the plane, so Bellamy just adds, _Tell your friend I'm on my way to the baggage claim_ and starts in that direction.

It's not as if he needs a pickup from the airport. He checked the MBTA website and he's confident he could make it on his own. But Miller offered, and he likes Miller, so he agreed. He wishes he could have just told him he didn't need to tag anyone in, but it's too late now. 

And he is moving here. So he could do with some more friends. He knows Miller from college, and he's glad to have a chance to reconnect with him; he graduated two years after Bellamy, so it's been a while. And Miller apparently has friends, which is mildly alarming in its own right. But at least that means Bellamy can steal them.

His phone buzzes, and Miller just says, _She's waiting for you_. 

It does feel a little strange, but he has no idea why, or what to expect. Miller's being weird; that's all the information he has on the subject. It's not enough to go on. And the question is going to resolve itself.

Which it does, in the form of Clarke Griffin waiting at the baggage claim, holding a sign that says _Socrates Rex_ , and his heart stops for a second.

Then it recovers and he bolts down the escalator to hug her.

She's laughing. "Hi."

"What the fuck, Clarke."

"Apparently you went to college with Miller. His dad was friends with my dad, so--" She noses his neck. "He mentioned you were coming, so I asked if I could get you."

He exhales and breathes in again, taking in the familiar scent of her. It's actually surreal, holding her again. Seeing her in this country, in the city he's planning to move to, it's almost too much.

But not quite; he holds her tighter. "Do you live here?"

"Yeah. I'm working at the MFA. I hear you're apartment-hunting."

"Yeah. And then moving in a couple weeks."

"Cool."

He finally lets her go, pulling back enough to get a good look at her. She always looks a little bit different every time he sees her, not exactly _older_ , although she is, but like he accidentally lost his place in a book and started reading at the wrong chapter. 

But she's still Clarke. He always catches up.

"How's your girlfriend?" he blurts out.

She laughs, so _bright_. "We broke up when we realized we were moving different places after college. So, on good terms a few months ago. I'm not angry and bitter about it this time."

"Cool, glad to hear it," he says, and cups her face for a kiss.

He only pulls back when some guy deliberately bumps into him, which reminds him that they're kissing in an airport, and they really don't have to be.

Clarke is beaming. "Ready for that hookup, huh?" she teases, and he kisses her again, just quickly.

"I think we can do better than a hookup," he tells her.

She twines their fingers together, leading him toward the exit. "Yeah," she says. "But I think that would be a good place to start."

"I'm pretty sure we started a while ago."

"Okay, yeah. So--good place to end up."

Bellamy squeezes her fingers. "Yeah. The best place to end up."

**Author's Note:**

> This clears out my current backlog of charity fics, so if you'd like to get one yourself, check out [this post](http://ponyregrets.tumblr.com/post/156578047164/windybirb-ponyregrets-windybirb) for details.


End file.
